


Sir Snuggles

by Elsey



Series: Charlie Bradbury is a nosy shit [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Season 10 AU, meddling sam and charlie, past trauma, pre hell issues, stray dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsey/pseuds/Elsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charlie brings a stray dog in out of the pouring rain, the last thing she expected was that Dean to demand she get rid of it. As she fights not only to keep the dog alive but in the bunker with the help of Sam, Dean and Castiel have a heart to heart that Castiel is not likely soon to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir Snuggles

“A dog? Charlie, what the fuck? Just because we let you move in here doesn’t mean you can- you can-”

“Move in here? With a dog?” Charlie asks, eyebrow cocked as she holds the squirming blanket close to her chest.

“Yes!” Dean sputters. “No dogs allowed!”

“Says who?”

“Says me! Just now!”

“Dean, he was outside, cold and wet and alone- you haven’t even seen his adorable little face!”

“Don’t let Sam see that thing, Charlie, just- take it away, to the pound, or the pet store or whatever.” Charlie gasps.

“You would let Sir Snuggles go to the _pound_!? Dean _Winchester_ , have you no heart?”

“No! It was ripped out when I was being torn apart by- Charlie, just get rid of the fucking dog!”

“You aren’t the boss of me! If I’m staying, so is Sir Snuggles!” With that, she turns on her heel and marches out of the room, droplets of water following her as she makes her way down to the shower area. Dean rubs a hand against his face and falls back into a chair in the library.

“Dean?” he hears, head snapping up to find Castiel in front of him, that ridiculous confused look on his face. Dean just shakes his head again.

“What, Cas?”

“I just saw Charlie walking down the hall with a moving blanket and a lot of anger. Should I be concerned?” Dean sighs and shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “She found a dog.”

“Oh,” Castiel replies. “I do believe Sam likes dogs, does he not?”

“Sam isn’t- he’s not the only one in this fucking bunker, and maybe _some of us_ don’t like dogs! Like you, Cas! How do we know you don’t hate dogs?” Castiel frowns.

“I love all of God’s creatures, Dean, you know that.” Dean loses his eyes and raises his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair and rubbing one of his eyes.

“Well that’s just fan fucking tastic, isn’t it?”

After the incident with the man from Oz, Dean and Sam refused to let Charlie go off on her own. She had just left to get the cast off of her arm and now she’s arrived back with a dog and Dean doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about that. He’s got… issues. With dogs. It’s. He doesn’t like them, okay? And he doesn’t like to be pestered about it either. Why did she have to bring a dog in? Why? Why any animal ever? WHY?

When he looks up Castiel is still giving him that look. And that’s just great, isn’t it, the one person he thought might back him up… After everything that happened, getting Castiel back was high priority on Dean’s list. After the demon and the Mark and everything just going to shit… he was sick of everyone spread out, not knowing who was doing what or who as alive or dead. So he asked Castiel to come back, and when he asked where Claire was he didn’t get a response so he dropped it. And now they’re living under one roof. With a fucking dog. And Dean still has this fucking Mark and he just- he just feels to _frustrated_ and _controlled_ and he wants some kind of choice, some kind of _freedom_ and now there’s a _do_ -

“A DOG!” he hears ring out across the bunker.

“Oh fuck me,” Dean groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Why this? Why now?” Castiel’s frown deepens.

“Why does this dog make you so uncomfortable?” Castiel asks. Dean flinches at the question and rises, dusting off his pants and shaking his hand. He claps Castiel on the shoulder as he walks past.

“Some questions are better left unanswered, buddy,” he says, leaving Castiel confused in the library. As Dean makes his way to the bedrooms, he’s interrupted by a bouncing and ecstatic Sam.

“Dean!” he exclaims. “Dean, Charlie found a dog! He’s filthy right now so we have idea what he looks like but he’s just a little puppy, Dean! We could have a puppy, how great would that be?” Dean hasn’t seen Sam this excited about anything in years. It’s too bad that he can’t find an ounce of joy within himself to be happy for his brother.

“I want that mutt out of here by morning,” he mutters.

“What?” Sam asks, face falling.

“You heard me, Sammy, that dog isn’t a good fit for us, we’re always on the road, it smells, it shits, it eats more than we can pay for, and no fucking dogs in my car. Get it out of here.”

“What the _fuck_ , Dean? I thought you were over this, especially after the Colonel.”

“That… that was different, _I_ was different. This is a strange dog that we don’t know, it could have rabies or worms or some shit. Just… take it to the pound.” Sam’s face is one of his disbelief, his mouth open in a retaliation as Dean swoops past and makes a beeline for his room, slamming the door and going to the bed. He chews on his lip while pacing by his bedside before he sits and finally lays down, eyes on the ceiling and hands on his chest.

He flinches as he remembers. He remembers the eyes, so dark and empty, so lifeless. He remembers the claws raking down his chest, ripping into his lungs, he couldn’t _breathe_ \- he remembers the chunks ripped out of his side, the blood flecked across his face, and he remembers the putrid, stinking breath- and he can’t. He’s sitting up, head in his hands as he takes a deep breath, fingers shaking as he runs them through his hair. He raises his face to the ceiling, releasing a shaking breath before nodding and standing. He looks at the wall, unsure of what he meant to do, unsure of what he _can_ do. He knows he can’t have this dog near him. He knows it will hurt him, maybe not in the way Sam thinks. He can feel the Mark pulsing on his arm, an internal desire to _protect_ screaming out at him. Kill the dog, save yourself, kill the dog, prove you’re more powerful, kill the dog _because you can_. He chews on the inside on his lip as his hand slowly makes its way to the back of his neck.

Castiel doesn’t knock, he just walks in. Dean turns, ready to snap at him, to snarl, to get him out, but he stops at the look of concern on his friend’s face.

“Sam says you are behaving differently than normal. Is it the Mark?” Dean lets loose a short breath, shaking his head and turning away, hands in his hair once more.

“No, it’s… it’s… it’s complicated, Cas, alright?” Dean says, turning back towards him. He’s not sure what expression is on his face, but it’s enough to make Castiel close the door, though he doesn’t move any closer. He’s looking at Dean like a wounded animal that could strike at any time.

“I am an angel, Dean. There is nothing that I cannot comprehend. Please, if something is troubling you, tell me, because I do not want a repeat of last year. I…” Castiel stops, a disgruntled look on his face. He looks back up slowly, brows pushed together, seemingly surprised at the answer he is about to give. “I cannot lose you again, Dean.” It hits Dean like a fucking rock and his face falls. “I feel this dog… is a bandaid, for problems you are having with yourself, especially after what happened to Charlie and with- with Claire. I do not wish to see you fall into a state similar to what we have seen before. Please, Dean. What’s troubling you?” Dean opens his mouth and then closes it. He can feels his eyes growing heavy. He gestures, but he doesn’t know what for. His mouth is a thin line and he hangs his head, his hand on the go-to spot on his neck. He looks back up and rubs a hand across his mouth, pursing his lips.

“Whe-” he stops as soon as he starts, his father’s voice in his head, telling him to man up, that his problems aren’t shit compared to other people’s. That other people go through worse without becoming a little bitch, that he should be grateful to be alive when his mother isn’t and that he needs to grow a pair if he’s ever going to survive in the life that he needs to live. Dean sits back down in the bed, hands folded in his lap, and he looks over at Castiel with a pleading gaze. Castiel sits next to him, imitating the gesture with his own hands, and waits.

“When I… went to hell, it was hellhounds that got me, like… like they do with everyone,” he starts slowly. Castiel nods, an encouragement to continue. “It… it fucked me up, okay? I hate dogs. I hate them. They- they just… they have the teeth, and the faces, and they’re… I don’t want one around, I don’t want the- the barking and the growling because I… it hurts to think about it. My chest-” his hand moves to cover it, fingers pressing deep against the bones there, “-it’s like I can still feel them, it’s like they’re still… I… I’m sorry,” Dean whispers, “that I’m not strong enough, that I’m so weak. But the Mark- it puts everything in this red haze, even the fear, and it makes me _hate_ that dog, I just _hate_ it because it hurt me, even though it didn’t… I hate this feeling. And I don’t want it.” Dean can’t look at Castiel. “So now you know. With the Colonel, I could understand him, I knew what he was thinking, and it was for a case. But having a strange, silent, growling dog around…”

Dean doesn’t know when Castiel put his hand on his shoulder, but when he realizes, he sits up and looks at the angel with a small smile. Castiel has so much wisdom in his eyes, his tired, tired eyes. And so much worry and weight and pain. And Dean sees part of himself in them and he doesn’t know what happens, he’s given Castiel this look a thousand times and he’s thought about this a thousand times and maybe it’s the adrenaline running through his veins from the Mark or maybe it’s talking about these things he never thought he would or maybe he’s just so _tired_ , he’s so tired… and his hand is suddenly on Castiel’s leg and he’s getting closer, ever so much closer, and Castiel is beginning to catch on and he isn’t pulling away, he isn’t disgusted with Dean for being weak, not only in the sense with this stupid fucking dog but with the urge he’s feeling now, the one he’s covered up with one night stands with women and drinking benders and a fucking vampire. And they’re so close, their lips are so close-

The door bangs open and Dean actually falls on the floor, Castiel standing immediately.

“Sir Snuggles is injured and Sam is with her and all the other doors were locked and I need your blanket _now-_ ” Charlie stops, looking at the two of them, Dean with what looks like a panic attack sitting on the floor with his mouth gaping like a fish and Castiel, wide eyed like he’d been caught watching porn by his Jesus-loving step mother who knows his father will beat him if she tells. She blinks once, twice. “Are you two-”

“No!” Dean yells, seeming to come to his senses. He stands, clenching his teeth, hands on his temples. “No, Charlie, what the fuck do you want?” Charlie’s eyes narrow at him and flit between Dean and Castiel. Her eyes widen.

“Oh my God you were. Oh my _GOD-_ ” Castiel closes his eyes and raised his head to the ceiling before opening them again and Dean can feel it, he can feel the haze, he can feel the red replacing his panic. He stands and shoves past Charlie, too hard, to fast, and Castiel rushes to catch her as she gasps. “Dean!” she yells.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks.

“Y-yeah,” Charlie says. “I’m okay. I think. Were you two-”

“The dog, Charlie. The dog.”

“Fuck, right!” Charlie jumps out of the angel’s arms and runs to Dean’s bed, gathering the blankets and flying past Castiel back to the bathrooms, where Sam is holding the whining puppy close to him. She has soft brown eyes and a white fuzzy body, her ears a dark brown with freckles all across her nose. She’s skinny and shivering with blood dripping from her leg, but Sam can tell from her giant paws that she’ll be big. When Charlie arrives with Dean’s blanket and the first aid kit from the kitchen, which Sam asked for first and then blanket, but _whatever_ , he immediately rips open the case and wraps gauze around it’s leg, tying it off tightly over the wound. The puppy whines and snaps at his but Sam dodges the tiny teeth. He grabs the first blanket and towels her off as best as he can and uses the big comforter to wrap her in a blanket burrito.

“We need to get her to a vet,” Sam says and Charlie nods, already on her phone looking up emergency clinics. Sam looks up to see Castiel striding past the door. “Cas!” he calls out. The angel stops and stands in the doorway. “Where’s Dean? We need to use the Impala, get this dog to the vet _now_.”

“I’ll find him,” Castiel says slowly, and leaves the doorway. Sam tries to catch Charlie’s eye, but she’s purposely avoiding him.

Castiel moves quickly down through the bunker and finds Dean outside, in the rain, hands in his pockets and face to the sky. Castiel stands beside him, silent for a moment.

“I thought you had left,” he comments. Dean nods.

“I almost did. Had the keys in the ignition, ready to go. But I can’t keep running. Not from this, not from you guys. Running isn’t going to help, I learned that much when I was with Cr- when I was gone those weeks.”

“I- I’m glad you didn’t,” Castiel tells him. Dean lowers his face from the rain, eyes so green, so bright, head tilted as he looks at Castiel. Castiel gets this feeling every time he looks at the other man; every time he has looked at him since he got his broken soul out of hell. And every time that he has felt this, he has been afraid, afraid that it is against God’s wishes, afraid that it makes him an abomination, afraid that Heaven will never accept him again if he gives in to this feeling, to this bond that he has had with Dean Winchester from the day that he has looked at him. This feeling of fear and worry and all things _human_. Except that this time, it is all of those feelings and one other- certainty.

It’s the most cliché thing that could have happened. Dean has always imagined that it would be him who made the final choice, who pulled Castiel close to _him_ and never let go, and when the angel presses his mouth so gently, so delicately against Dean’s, he pulls away with surprise, eyes searching the other man’s for some kind of regret or hate or disgust, and when he finds nothing but tenderness in them and the patience he needs, Dean pulls Castiel close again, one hand on his back and the other on the back of his head. When he moves away this time, Dean sees no red. He feels no hate and he feels no pain. For the first time in so long, he has given himself something, he has given himself love and affection with no price, with no strings attached. He knows that it is requited and he knows that Castiel accepts him for who he is. For the first time in years, Dean almost feels happy.

They’re still staring at each other in some kind of trance in the pouring rain when the Impala pulls up next to them, Sam rolling down the window.

“Are you two coming?” he calls over the downpour. “We found an emergency vet in the next town over!” Charlie is looking at them from the passenger seat, a large bundle in her arms. She makes eye contact with Castiel, who gives her a sly wink. Her eyes widen, and before she can say anything Dean has told Sam no, they’ll stay here, and he’s already pulling the car away.

“Sam, you asshole!” Charlie shrieks.

“What, what!?” Sam yells, looking nervously at the dog.

“Cas and Dean! They’re totally going to hook up!”

“What? Are you on crack, Charlie? Dean is too emotionally constipated for that.”

“Sam. Sam I’m serious, I think they’re finally pulling their shit together. Cas just winked at me for fuck’s sake!”

“I think you’re reading way too much into this, Charls.” Charlie shakes her head.

“Just wait and see, Winchester. Wait and see.”

Charlie and Sam arrive back at the bunker three hours later, exhausted, with a boatload of medications and a freshly bandaged puppy. The dog has been sedated and yawns in Charlie’s face, who gives it a tired smile while she and Sam pile out of the car.

“You know we have to give it a better name, right?”

“What!? Are you crazy!? Sir Snuggles is the _perfect_ name for any dog! Just look at her!”

“The fact that you just said _her_ and _Sir_ Snuggles is what concerns me,” Sam teases.

“Don’t force your gender roles on this poor innocent dog! She deserves the best name!”

“I know! And I think I found her a better name than Sir Snuggles!”

“Oh yeah? What could _possibly_ be better than Sir Snuggles?”

Sam smiles as he strokes the dog’s head. “Hope,” he says, and Charlie can’t help but return the smile that he’s giving her.

“You know what? Hope it is. I like it.”

The two of them make their way back into the bunker where they go to their separate rooms. Sam takes the dog to his room after winning the argument in the car that he knows how to change the bandages if something goes wrong in the night, and when he looks in Dean’s room not only does he remember that he stole his brother’s sheets but he sees that it’s empty. Frowning, Sam goes into his own room and closes the door, putting the puppy down on the bed and pulling out his phone. He dials Dean’s number and waits. He doesn’t expect to hear it ringing, though. He especially doesn’t expect to hear it ringing in the room a few down from his, almost exactly in the same room that Castiel has been sleeping in…

“Hello?” comes the tired reply.

“Where are you? Your room’s empty,” Sam says, trying to keep his voice steady and bite back a smile as he creeps towards the door and cracks it open, keeping his eye on the door three down from his. He hears ruffling in the background.

“Oh, I was just in the kitchen, glass of water and all that shit,” Dean says. “See you in the morning.” His phone beeps and Sam can barely contain his excitement. He texts Charlie to look down the hall, as her door is across from his. Her response is immediate in that Sam sees her door crack open too. There are two witnesses when Dean Winchester leaves Castiel’s bedroom, tripping into his pants with his shirt under his arm. Castiel follows him out, dressed in nothing but boxers to Sam’s horror, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Cas rasps.

“Cas, lower your fucking voice. I’m going back to my room.”

“I’m coming with you,” he states.

“What? No! What if Sam sees us?”

“Sam is watching us right now,” Castiel tells him, and Sam slams his door shut much too loudly and much too quickly as Dean spins around.

“Sam!” Dean shouts.

“Fuck,” Sam mumbles, looking back at the puppy, who’s curled up on his bed. He opens the door slowly and steps out in the hall. “Oh, hey, Dean, didn’t, uh, see you here-” he starts, but doesn’t get a chance to finish when Charlie steps into the hall and snaps a picture of the two of them.

“Get the dog and run!” Charlie shrieks. Sam whips around, scooping Hope into his arms and making a break for it as Dean trips after them, Castiel remaining in the hallway, looking alarmed at the situation as Dean curses, righting himself and doing his pants off before hollering after his brother and friend.

When Dean finally catches up with the two of them, Sam and Charlie stupidly backed into a corner, Sam’s first reaction is to give him the dog and run. As he and Charlie are fleeing, Sam stops abruptly, turning around and getting back to the library as fast as he possibly can, realizing what he’s done. When he gets there, he finds Dean on the floor, puppy in his lap, Dean petting the dog softly as it snores, tiny little paws twitching. How it’s remained asleep this whole time Sam will never really know. Charlie appears beside Sam, out of breath, and before she can say anything she spots Dean and Hope.

“Should we leave them alone?” Charlie asks. Sam nods and they back away, passing Castiel in the hall.

“Dean has the dog,” Sam tells him. “I think it’s going well.” Castiel nods and continues. “Cas?” Sam calls. The angel turns back. “Tell him her name is Hope.”

When Castiel reaches the library, still clad in his boxers and blanket cape, Dean hasn’t moved. He sits down next to him against a bookshelf, eyes on the puppy.

“Sam says her name is Hope.” Dean chuckles at that.

“What a shocker. Trying to give her a name that he thinks will reach out to me and make me want to keep her.”

“Did it work?” Castiel asks. Dean looks up from the dog and gives him a tired smile.

“I think it just might,” he replies.

Dean falls asleep in that very spot, Castiel’s fingers running through his hair, over his shoulders, down his arms. The puppy doesn’t move either. Castiel stands, placing the blanket around Dean before he carefully lifts him into his arms, making sure not to jostle the puppy, and carries him effortlessly back to his room. The puppy wakes when he sets Dean down on the bed, wandering over to him and settling in between the two of them, letting out a content sigh. Castiel smiles at the small creature and scratches its ears at it rolls onto its side.

Castiel focuses his gaze on Dean, eyes travelling up the length of his body. He lays next to the man, no need for sleep, just happy to listen to the sounds of breath, feel the heat from his body. As he lays, he looks up at the ceiling, and he knows that this is what God intended. He doesn’t feel the guilt he had felt in previous years and he doesn’t feel the wrongness he had sensed it would lead to. After all, this much love and this much joy cannot be something so hateful in the eyes of his father; he created Castiel to be perfect, and perhaps rebelling, perhaps being not an angel but not a man, perhaps loving someone in such a profound way, loving a human, a friend, is perfect in the eyes of his father. As he watches Dean Winchester sleep, all he can think is that this is what God intended, and that he will not give it up for anyone on this earth or in the Heaven above. He will fight for this man with everything he has, because after fighting for six years, he has finally gotten what he always dreamed he would.

The next week, Charlie prints out copies of the picture.

Dean has it framed next to his bed, where he, Castiel, and the tiny puppy named Hope have been sleeping since the night she was found.


End file.
